


where the light won't find you

by katierosefun



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (kind of???), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker is a Little Shit, BAMF Ahsoka Tano, BAMF Anakin Skywalker, BAMF Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex Needs a Hug, Crack Treated Seriously, Enemies to Lovers, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Padmé Amidala Lives, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Satine Kryze Lives, Sith Ahsoka Tano, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Obi-Wan Kenobi, and so would sith!anakin, idk let's be honest sith!obi would still flirt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:07:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katierosefun/pseuds/katierosefun
Summary: Or maybe Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka do turn to the Dark Side after Mortis. And maybe they accidentally save the galaxy anyways? (But that doesn't mean they still don't cause a headache for the rest of the galaxy.)
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CT-7567 | Rex & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 65
Kudos: 627





	1. Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka

**Author's Note:**

> Let's have some fun, shall we?

Everyone knew the rumors.

Everyone knew the rumors, which was why across the galaxy, everyone simultaneously locked their doors and shuttered their windows as soon as the sun set, even though everyone also knew deep down that locks and shutters and the dark didn’t matter—wouldn’t matter, not if they were truly to be ever attacked.

But really, they were wasting their time. The regular civilians had nothing to worry about: it was the Jedi and that blasted Senate they allied themselves with that really needed to watch their backs.

At least, that was what Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka all knew as they watched the rest of Coruscant shut down for the night. A fierce wind swept past them, blowing up the hems of their cloaks, but they remained still, not swayed even the slightest from the rooftop they were perched on. Should anyone had decided to come to this rooftop, they would have frozen dead in their tracks. They would have taken one look at the three ominous figures, at the black robes and known right away that they were in the presence of the threat that had caused even the oldest and wisest of the Jedi and the Senate to shiver.

No one in the Jedi Order, let alone the Senate or the rest of the innocents were aware of how the three of the Jedi’s own fell. Just that one day, the three Jedi went away on a mission to answer a call, and they returned not quite the same. There were reports filed from a Captain Rex, but no one, not even the most skilled hackers or the most trusted senators were able to have access to that report.

But now, if a civilian somehow managed to stay on the rooftop a moment longer, they would have seen the glimmer of gold in each of those figures’ eyes, and that glimmer of gold would have been the last thing they would have seen before meeting some deadly fate.

But no civilian made their way up to the rooftop, and so our three darklings remained on the rooftop, watching over Coruscant with some mild amusement as the lights inside each building slowly flickered out.

“I’ll never quite understand these people,” Ahsoka mused. “Do they think we’re afraid of the dark?”

“Now, now,” Obi-Wan replied, his lips curling into a smile. “You mustn’t blame them for trying.”

“We can blame them for other things, though.” Anakin said slyly, which got him an equally sly smile from Ahsoka.

“When can we move?” she asked, resting her hands on her sabers in anticipation.

“Patience,” Obi-Wan murmured, watching the last of the lights flicker out from Coruscant. “We wouldn’t want to speed through the fun, would we?” But then the entire planet fell to darkness then, and for a moment, neither Obi-Wan nor Anakin nor Ahsoka moved from their posts. They stood, their cloaks blending in with the pitch black night. As though sensing the sudden fate to fall on the planet—and on the rest of the galaxy now—even the breeze held its breath.

Then, Anakin’s soft laughter filled the empty space. A whisper of a wind carried Anakin’s laughter through the skyscrapers of Coruscant. A child shivered in her bed.

“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “I believe now is the time.”

And should there have been a civilian on the roof with them, they would have witnessed the sudden burst of strength and speed amongst the three darklings: they would have seen a flash of black and red as the three leapt from the rooftops with chilling ease. They would have seen the three jumping from rooftop to rooftop with soundless feet, seen the unity with which the three moved, as though they were all parts of a machine. And should that civilian have remained, they would have felt a small thrill of witnessing such terrifying grace.

But again, there was no one to witness the three, and there would be no one to witness the chaos that would happen in just a few minutes.

\--

They navigated the Senate building with an ease that only came with the muscle memory of walking through the Senate building countless times before. There was no one in the halls save for the guards: guards which were taken care of with a brief flash of red saber and golden eyes. Laughter mingled with sharp, choked gasps of someone’s dying breath.

No one sounded an alarm. There was no one _to_ sound an alarm anymore. Even the most determined senators were under strict curfew, and the three darklings that now crept through the Senate building knew they wouldn’t be interrupted.

Not to say that they had exactly planned this little escapade: there had been little discussion of a formal plan, just that one night, Anakin had suddenly perked up and declared that they needed to wipe out a key player in the galactic wars. “Everything will fall into place after,” he had promised Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, and they hadn’t argued, not when they heard the key player Anakin wanted to take care of.

So now, they stood in front of a set of impressive red doors, bracing—no, _welcoming_ —the panic that would occur after they were finished.

Ahsoka turned to Anakin and Obi-Wan. “Well?” she asked. “Do any of you want to do the honors, or should I?”

“By all means,” Anakin said, gesturing towards the doors. “Give the old man a scare.” He smiled. “But remember to save some room for us.”

“Of course,” Ahsoka replied, and she unfastened her light sabers from her sides. She twirled them around expertly in her hands—a dramatic flourish, really, one that made Obi-Wan roll his eyes, but then she dug the sabers into the door. A heartbeat later, she had carved a perfect circle in the metal. Ahsoka lifted her eyes to Anakin and Obi-Wan again, and with a smile that would have sent any other grown man running, she sent the circle of metal flying through the chambers.

There were sudden shrieks, a sickening crunch of metal against armor, skin, bone as Anakin, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka piled into the Chancellor’s personal chambers. Already the blue Senate guards were scrambling, blasters firing and commands being shouted in the air.

But each command was cut off with a quick gasp, each blaster cut through with deadly precision. The attackers were but a blur, a quiet, deadly blur that the Senate guards didn’t stand a chance against.

And there, in the center of the chambers was the Chancellor himself, who had oddly stayed still during the massacre of his guards. “Well,” he only said as Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka circled him with their sabers. “I was beginning to wonder when I would be paid a visit.” He stood up, hands stretched across his desk. His eyes roved between Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and then landed lastly on Anakin.

“My dear boy,” the Chancellor said at last. “You should have come to me earlier.”

“Maybe I should have,” came Anakin’s reply. His light saber was coming threateningly close to the Chancellor’s hands.

“But we don’t play with our food,” Ahsoka said, her canines flashing as she pulled her lips back into a twisted smile.

“I see,” the Chancellor only said, his eyes drifting from Anakin to his companions. “And I assume you all mean to kill me?”

“You would assume correctly,” Obi-Wan replied.

But the Chancellor smiled. He stood up. “You know,” he said, his voice as soft as those around him, “I could help you.” And then in a flash of red, the Chancellor held up a light saber, its red light illuminating his lined face. “I have been waiting a long time for this, my boy,” he said to Anakin. “As for Master Kenobi and Padawan Tano…” His eyes flickered once. “Not quite the future I expected, but this is an…interesting development.” He looked at Anakin, whose expression hadn’t changed.

“Well?” Palpatine asked. “Think of it, Anakin—a galaxy right in our hands.” His eyes gleamed with a hungry, powerful light as he surveyed the darklings before him. Indeed, this was so much more than he had bargained for in the beginning of the Clone War.

There was a silence as Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka all considered the Chancellor.

Finally, Anakin smiled. “You misunderstand, Chancellor,” he said. “I’m not interested in ruling a galaxy.” He drew his light saber close, lighting up his smirk. “I’m just bored.”

The Chancellor didn’t even have a second to prepare as Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka all lunged for him.

\--

Hours later, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka would return to their apartment—because they _did_ have a grand apartment somewhere on Coruscant, somewhere that no one would suspect. The landlord himself had no idea he was housing three Sith in his building, but he was, and he wouldn’t know that the laughter and the cheering at his top floor were of celebration to a certain dead Chancellor.

\--

And hours later, Senator Amidala and Captain Rex would be staring down at Chancellor Palpatine’s dead body with identical expressions of dread. Of course, neither Senator Amidala nor Captain Rex _nor_ our Sith friends would know that Chancellor Palpatine was indeed the Sith Lord in charge of orchestrating the Clone War—they wouldn’t know that for a long time.

But right now, Rex only looked up from Palpatine’s body and said, “I have a bad feeling about this.”


	2. Obi-Wan & Satine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to get a vibe for what exactly was going on inside my head while I wrote this, I recommend listening to 'Drunk Groove' by MARUV. Because I was listening to that song on repeat while writing this whole chapter, oops.

Satine didn’t know what to expect when Padmé and Rex called, but she had seen enough of the news to know that the Republic was in a frenzy. Mandalore was in a bit of a frenzy itself, because enough rumors had reached Satine’s homeworld of certain three fallen Jedi—

But Satine wouldn’t allow herself to linger on those thoughts. _There was no way_ , she had told herself when she first heard the news. No possible way. So she kept those thoughts tucked deep within the recesses of her mind, back with every other fear and insecurity that she dare not face now. Duchesses did not allow such fears to surface.

So she kept her face a mask of absolute calm as she walked into Padmé’s office. She found Captain Rex standing by Padmé’s desk, his face shadowed by too many sleepless nights. He was speaking with Padmé, which Satine would have found odd, considering that she hadn’t seen the two of them actually together save for in rare occasions, but then again, she knew that the two of them had been close to Anakin Skywalker, one of the Jedi who were presumed missing.

 _Or fallen_.

“Satine,” Padmé said, looking up from Rex. Her face split into a weary, albeit relieved smile. She looked just as dragged down by Rex, and though any makeup effectively covered up what Satine assumed would be equally dark shadows, the senator’s eyes alone communicated just the amount of trouble in the past few weeks. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”

“I came as quickly as I could,” Satine replied. “The news—”

“Yes,” Padmé said, her face clouding over. “Chancellor Palpatine’s death has been…a difficult matter for us all.” She looked up at Satine. “But that isn’t why I requested your presence to Coruscant.”

Satine lifted her eyebrow. “No?” she asked, sitting down in front of the desk.

Padmé hesitated. Then, setting her hands on the desk, she said, “Captain Rex and I have been doing some…investigating.”

Satine wasn’t surprised. She distinctly remembered Padmé’s stealth on her own time on Mandalore. Still, the uneasy look Padmé and Rex wore tugged at Satine’s nerves in a way she wasn’t sure she wanted to confront. Still, she cleared her throat. “And?”

“And,” Padmé said slowly, “we’ve identified the manner of death.”

“The Chancellor was murdered,” Satine said, her voice steady.

“Yes,” Padmé said, “but no one wants to talk about by _whom_.” She looked up at Rex, who nodded and set down a small holoprojector. Rex briefly flicked his eyes up to Satine, and she looked steadily back, silently daring him to hold back.

Luckily, he didn’t.

The captain activated the holoprojector, and Satine fought to keep her expression neutral as she regarded the projection of the chancellor’s wounds. The man’s face was burned beyond belief, his face still twisted in pain. And his chest—

Three single burns. Burns which tugged at a memory from the back of Satine’s head. From a certain trip back to Coruscant. A certain Jedi Knight spearing his light saber through Senator Merrik, an exasperated sigh from—

“Those are light saber marks,” Padmé said quietly. “We couldn’t find any actual footage of the murder, but…” She shut off the holoprojector, her face pale. “The Chancellor’s office—” She took in a shaky breath. “They knew what they were doing. They _knew_ that place. They knew the Senate Building, knew _everything_.”

Satine’s mouth was dry. “What are you implying?” she asked.

“I think you know what I’m implying, Satine.”

Satine looked down at the holoprojector sitting on the desk. “So there’s a traitor,” she said at last. “That doesn’t mean that—”

“All Jedi were accounted for during the time of the murder,” Rex said, and Satine looked up at the captain. His expression was stony, but Satine could hear the slightest of a tremble in the captain’s voice as he continued, “There’s only three who haven’t been accounted for…a long time now.”

“Satine—” Padmé started, but Satine was already standing up, pushing the chair away from behind her. The senator’s face was pained, tired. “I know how you feel. _We_ know how you feel,” she added, gesturing to Rex behind her. “But given the state of affairs as of now…”

“We can’t dismiss everything,” Rex said.

A tense silence spread through the office, the kind that choked Satine. She crossed her arms over her chest. _No fear._ “Is that all?” she asked.

Padmé pressed her lips together. “I know that Master Kenobi and you are…” Her voice drifted as she met Satine’s hard gaze. “Friends.” She cleared her throat. “There could be a chance he might…reach out to you.”

Satine’s chest tightened. “He hasn’t so far,” she said flatly. “If that’s what you’re asking.”

“I’m not asking that,” Padmé said. “But in case he does—”

“He won’t,” Satine said coolly. She dropped her arms from her chest. “I don’t know what impression you have of my relationship with Obi-Wan Kenobi, Senator Amidala,” she said, her tone sharpening with each word, “but I’ll have you know that Master Kenobi is not sentimental enough to make any contact with old friends.” Her chest ached, her head pounding as she added, “I would know.”

Padmé and Rex were quiet. They looked at Satine sadly, and she wanted to claw those expressions right off their faces.

“I must be on my way,” Satine said at last, clasping her hands behind her back.

“Of course,” Padmé said reluctantly. “Captain Rex, perhaps you could—”

“I don’t need an escort, Senator,” Satine said. “I’m _quite_ capable of defending myself. Goodnight.” She tilted her head down a half-inch of a bow—a brief acknowledgement—and walked out of the office, her head still pounding.

\--

Satine was glad of the thunderstorm when she reached her apartments. The weather matched her mood perfectly, and she was ready to watch the lightning shake her windows, feel the thunder rattle her bones—rattle whatever terrible things she had heard in Senator Amidala’s office. She could still hear Padmé’s quiet voice, see the dull pain on Rex’s face as they set the holoprojector in front of her. And she still saw their sorrowful gaze on her as she walked out.

She could feel their eyes on her now, and Satine shuddered, setting to work on undoing the elaborate braids of her hair, the knots of her headpiece. Shower. She would like to shower first, at least scrub off that terrible feeling of being watched first. And then she could enjoy the thunderstorm.

So Satine slipped out of her dress, threw it to her bed before slipping into the refresher. She stepped under the showerhead, let the warm water sooth the tense rigidity that was her body. For a few moments, Satine stood under the water, keeping her eyes closed as she felt steam rise up from the warm water. She usually made quick work of bathing herself—being on the run from bounty hunters had forced her to be conservative with water and with most things.

But she shoved those memories aside too, forced herself to focus instead on relaxing for at least one minute of this terrible day. She decided she deserved at least that one minute.

Satine opened her eyes. That minute was over.

She washed the rest of herself in swift, efficient movements. Perhaps she scrubbed a little harder at herself than she normally would—her skin felt rubbed raw by the time she was finished, and when she stepped out of the shower, she avoided looking at her reflection. She slipped into a set of light robes, wrung her wet hair over her shoulders. She combed her fingers through the knots, and when she was mostly satisfied with herself, Satine stepped out of the refresher.

She found her room the way she had left it—she didn’t know why she would think otherwise. She picked up her dress and folded it over in her arms before setting it in her closet. She knew it would be cleaned later. But when she moved to put it in the closet, she found the small droid deactivator still tucked in the folds of her dress. Satine hesitated. She didn’t need it here.

Still, something had her reaching out, tucking it into the folds of her robe before she turned back to the rest of her bedroom.

Lightning split the sky, and Satine sat back down on her bed just as a loud _crack_ interrupted the rush of rain. Satine folded her legs underneath herself, turning her face out the window. She could see the other skyscrapers of Coruscant, albeit they were blurred and runny from the rain.

Lightning webbed the sky once more, this time turning one streak into multiple fissions. Satine dully hoped that everyone was indoors. She would hate to actually get caught in the storm.

A roll of thunder overtook the building, loud enough for Satine to feel the vibrations from her windows. She pushed herself off the bed then, making her way towards the rain-lashed windows. She saw another flash of lightning—this one far away, but the answering thunder was so much louder than that. When Satine pressed her hand against the cold window, she felt the tremor in the glass.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Satine whirled around.

And there he was: leaning against the doorway, robes only slightly damp, but other than that, perfectly whole. Perfectly in one piece. Satine would have been relieved if she hadn’t seen that strange smile he was wearing— _his_ smile, but not quite. A smile that was a little more knowing, a little sharper than the one Satine was so used to.

And his eyes—

Obi-Wan’s eyes shone golden in the dim light of Satine’s bedroom. “Do you remember the thunderstorms on Mandalore?” he asked.

Satine stared. His voice wasn’t quite the same either. A little lower, a little quieter. But still undeniably _him_.

But also not him.

Because Satine knew those golden eyes were never a good thing. She knew from the fall of her heart against her chest that the rumors were true.

“I do,” Obi-Wan said, moving from the doorway. His movements were quiet, his robes no more than a whisper against the floor. Satine dimly wondered how he must have gotten into her apartments. If her guards—had he—

“Your guards are quite alright,” Obi-Wan said, as though reading Satine’s mind. Or maybe he had. Satine didn’t know for sure, nor did she want to know. A corner of his lips twitched—again into that smile that was both and not his. “Although they’ll be…incapacitated for a few days.”

Satine’s heart plummeted. “Get out,” she said at last. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re not—”

“You don’t?” Obi-Wan asked. He pushed himself off the doorway, taking one step, two steps towards her.

That was enough.

Satine dove her hand into the folds of her robe and yanked out the deactivator. She aimed it right at Obi-Wan, her breath catching in her throat. “Don’t,” she whispered.

Obi-Wan stopped. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

“What are you doing here?” Satine asked quietly.

“Can’t an old friend visit?”

“You’re not my friend,” Satine fired back. “Not if you’re… _this_.” She tried to keep her voice even as she held the deactivator steady. She wouldn’t shake. She couldn’t shake, and she refused to shake, not with his golden eyes staring her down.

“Then what am I, my dear?”

 _Gone_.

“You’re a Sith,” Satine said, her voice dipping towards the end. She swallowed. “You’ve changed.”

“So have you,” Obi-Wan said, nodding to the deactivator.

“I’m defending myself.”

“Wonderfully, too,” Obi-Wan said. “But if I could make a suggestion…” And then he was walking forward, his robes hardly making a sound against the ground. Satine lifted the deactivator again, but Obi-Wan was already in front of her, and then his hands brushed against hers, brushed past her wrists.

“If you’re going to shoot, my darling,” Obi-Wan said, his voice as soft as the rain outside, “you might as well have a stronger grip than that.” He wrapped his hands around Satine’s wrists, guided her fingers around the trigger. Satine didn’t move—didn’t dare move, not when Obi-Wan guided the deactivator up, up, up—

Right at his chest. Right for his heart.

“Well?” Obi-Wan asked, amusement dancing in those golden eyes of his. “Your move, Duchess.”

Satine swallowed. “Obi-Wan.”

“Yes?” Obi-Wan was close, the deactivator just barely brushing against his chest. His face angled down towards Satine, close enough for Satine to make out even the one or two strands of auburn hair out of place. Those eyes were still golden, still searching Satine as she looked up at him. Forced herself to meet his steady gaze.

They were _his_ eyes, and yet not.

“Get out,” Satine said hoarsely. “Now.”

\--

“So,” Anakin said, dangling his legs off the armrest of the couch, “how did it go?”

“He’s in one piece, isn’t he?” Ahsoka sang from her perch at the dining table. She lifted her eyes up to Obi-Wan from her data pad. “Well?”

Obi-Wan only smiled, throwing his cloak over Anakin, who let out a muffled half-sigh, half-groan of annoyance. “I believe things will be a little more interesting from now on,” he said. And then, seating himself down by Anakin’s head, Obi-Wan tugged back his cloak and looked down at his former apprentice. “Isn’t that right, Anakin?”

Anakin only smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	3. Anakin & Padmé

Padmé had a headache.

Her headache had been steadily growing since—well, she didn’t know since. Since maybe everything happened. Since before the Chancellor died. _Murdered_ , Padmé corrected herself. That was the proper word. _Murdered_.

Padmé couldn’t remember the last time she _hadn’t_ had a headache. A dull pain seemed to throb from behind her eyes, her temples. And then a deeper, more complex pain pulsed from within her chest, spreading from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes. A cold kind of pain, one that left Padmé hollow with each passing hour, passing day.

But she wasn’t the only one.

She didn’t have to be a Jedi to know that the Order was grieving in their own way too. The few times she had met with Master Yoda were filled with an unspoken sorrow, one that Padmé didn’t think the Jedi were capable of feeling. She felt silly thinking that then—of _course_ the Jedi had to feel some pain.

Padmé’s meetings with the Captain Rex and Commander Cody had been just as devastatingly quiet, draining. They had been the first ones, Padmé knew. The first ones to process that there was something terribly, terribly wrong with their beloved generals and commander. Padmé still didn’t know what exactly had happened on the cruisers the day when everything went to hell, but she knew better than to ask for the details. There hadn’t been any dead, that much Padmé knew, and a stupidly hopeful part of her had thought, _fine, well maybe Anakin and Obi-Wan and Ahsoka are still in there—_

But then the Chancellor had been murdered.

And that had been when Padmé understood that the people she knew and loved were gone.

Because Anakin— _her_ Anakin—wouldn’t _dream_ of hurting the Chancellor. The man was practically a father to Anakin. And Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, who was merely a _child_ —Padmé didn’t even want to think about their roles in the matter. The wounds had been enough to suggest that there had been multiple light sabers, the angles of the marks all suggesting that there had been three different people involved.

Padmé’s headache was only growing worse now, especially as she sat before Mas Amedda, who had been made the interim Chancellor in lieu of the recent events. _In lieu of the murder_ , Padmé again corrected herself. There was no point in dancing around the topic anymore. She couldn’t dance around the topic.

“This is clearly a Separatist attack,” Mas Amedda was saying now. “An attempt to break the Republic from the inside. We must redouble our war efforts.”

Padmé heard a few murmurs amongst the other senators around her. The Chancellor’s office was still a place that the majority of them did not like to go to, even with the site cleaned. Padmé could tell because of how the senators shifted in their seats every few seconds, wearing identical expressions of disgust.

But at Mas Amedda’s pointed remark about the war efforts, everyone’s expressions melted into one of either unease or grim determination. Padmé’s heart sank as she caught that most of the senators were nodding their heads, most of them looking eager. Padmé caught Bail’s expression—his sorrowful expression matched her own, she was sure.

“But are we sure this was a Separatist attack?” Padmé asked at last. She kept her voice steady, strong even as everyone’s eyes swung around to look at her. She was used to that much. To the bristles of the older senators around her, but she hadn’t let that bother her in her earlier days as a senator, nor would she allow such petty gestures to annoy her now.

Padmé looked Mas Amedda in the eye. “There is evidence that Chancellor Palpatine’s death resulted from multiple light saber wounds.” She forced her breathing to even itself out as she added, “Light sabers of fallen Jedi.”

A deadly silence pervaded the office.

 _Ah, yes_ , Padmé thought grimly. Still no one would speak of those words: _fallen Jedi_.

But she would have to speak those words if no one else would.

“If I recall correctly,” Mas Amedda said, “Count Dooku himself was a part of the Jedi Order himself. Believed gone before re-emerging as the Sith—and puppeteer of the Separatists.” He fluttered a hand out the panoramic windows. “Who is to say that these _fallen Jedi_ , as you call them, are not of the same brand?”

Padmé didn’t know. That was her most honest answer. She did _not know_ , because at this point, she no longer knew anyone. The people she thought she knew like the back of her hand had proved that much.

“If they were aligned with the Separatists, they would have made a more obvious attack on Republican forces, wouldn’t you think?” Padmé asked instead. She surveyed the office, meeting each one of the senators’ eyes. “According to the reports from the 501st and the 212th, no men were lost when the fallen Jedi—”

“You _can_ say their names, Senator,” Mas Amedda interrupted.

Padmé stiffened. “Excuse me?”

The entire office seemed to hold its breath as Padmé turned her gaze to Mas Amedda. The interim Chancellor only regarded Padmé with cool eyes. “You can say their names, Senator,” he said. “Your reluctance to name Skywalker, Kenobi, and Padawan Tano could be interpreted as your own sympathy towards these enemies of the Republic. _Traitors_ of the Republic.”

“I have no sympathy for murderers,” Padmé said coolly.

“No,” Mas Amedda said, a smile curling over his lips. “But what of for friends? Even if they are—as you say yourself…” He set his hands delicately on the desk, his eyes glittering under the office lights. “ _Fallen_.” He tilted his head at Padmé. “A polite euphemism for the _Sith_ , don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Padmé met Mas Amedda’s stare. “I’m no Sith sympathizer, Chancellor,” she said. “In case you haven’t forgotten, Naboo—my _home_ —was threatened by the Sith. I have no love for them. Not then, and certainly not now.”

Mas Amedda smiled—another cruel, cold thing that sent shivers down Padmé’s spine. She had never liked the man, had never trusted him, even with Palpatine’s clear trust in his Vice Chair.

“Let us hope you give us no reason to doubt your clear…dislike for them, Senator,” Mas Amedda only said.

That was enough. Padmé heard Bail start: “Chancellor, if you’re implying that—”

But Padmé found her voice. “And let us hope, Chancellor,” she said, “that we are not given reason to _redouble our war efforts_ when there was no need to begin with.”

 _That_ caused a ripple through the office. One that quieted the once-murmuring senators. The silence in the office had become suffocating, choking out any attempt for argument or protest. But Padmé kept her eyes leveled to Mas Amedda, refusing to back down. _Your move, Chancellor_ , she thought grimly.

Mas Amedda seemed to take the challenge.

“I believe we are done for today,” he said at last. As the senators all rose to leave, Mas Amedda added, “But I would like to continue to speak to Senator Amidala.”

Again, not one senator spoke. Bail shot Padmé a concerned look, but she only tilted her head in a slight nod. _I’ll be fine_.

Bail pressed his lips together, clearly unconvinced, but he still left with the others.

When the doors closed, Mas Amedda spoke first.

“I know these times have been difficult for you, Senator.”

Padmé kept her face a mask as she turned back around to the Chancellor. “These have been difficult times for all of us,” she said.

“Yes,” Mas Amedda said. “But I would imagine things are much more difficult for people who were once friends of the new…threats.”

Padmé regarded Amedda warily. “Why is it that you’ve decided to keep me behind, Chancellor?”

“You have become outspoken, Senator,” the Chancellor only replied. He clasped his hands together. “In many ways.” He lifted his eyebrows. “You have caused a significant amount of unrest in the Senate—unrest that we do not need right now.”

“You ask me to be silent.”

Mas Amedda extended his hands towards Padmé. “You said it yourself, my dear senator.”

 _I’m not your dear anything,_ Padmé thought. “So you would have me be silent,” she said slowly. “For what purpose? Do you believe that my silence would ease your role as Chancellor?” She should be mortified for being this outright with the Chancellor. She _should_ be. Politics was such a dangerous game, she knew, but her words were rushing out of her quickly. No more senators left in this room. No more of the political nonsense that kept her tethered to polite rules of negotiation.

 _Aggressive negotiations_ , Anakin had once told her, a cocky smile on his lips. _Negotiations with a light saber._

Well, Padmé might not have had a light saber, but she certainly had her own arsenal.

Mas Amedda’s eyes darkened. “You are treading dangerous waters, Senator.”

“These are dangerous times,” Padmé replied. “Made only more dangerous by your insistence that these new threats are inherently tied to the Separatists when there is _no_ evidence that suggests such.”

“The Sith have always been tied to the Separatists.”

“The Sith have only been tied to themselves,” Padmé fired back. “They care for no one but their own power.”

Mas Amedda’s eyebrows lifted. “And you know so much of the Sith _why_?”

“Again, Chancellor,” Padmé said sharply, “my planet was once a plaything of the Sith.” She stood up. “Is there anything else you wish of me, Chancellor? Or am I free to go?”

Mas Amedda smiled. “I’m afraid not, my dear senator,” he replied. He shifted his gaze somewhere to the back of the office, just as the doors slid open. Padmé spun around to find a set of—

 _Magna Guards_?

But those were weapons of the Separatists—droids specifically under the control of Separatist leaders like Dooku and Grievous—

Padmé spun back around to Mas Amedda, whose expression had turned stony. “I’ll be sharing news of your unfortunate death, my dear senator,” he said, standing up. “You will be sorely missed for some time—but I believe the Senate is about to become quieter.”

Padmé’s blood ran cold. “You’re one of Dooku’s,” she breathed.

“Not Dooku’s,” Mas Amedda said. “Chancellor Palpatine promised me a new version of the Republic—he knew as well as I that the Republic was flawed from the inside-out. Spoiled. Rotten,” he spat.

Padmé’s head spun. _Palpatine?_

“He was a visionary,” Mas Amedda said, stepping away from the desk. “And I will finish what he started, along with the help of his apprentice. _That_ is where Dooku must come into play.” He smiled. “But that does not mean I do not take some of the Count’s advice.” He tilted his head at Padmé. “He _does_ offer you his most sincere condolences.”

Padmé heard the hum of the Magna Guards’ staffs, and she whirled around just in time to see the first flash of purple electricity. She dove to the side, crashing to the floor and rolling up to her knees. Her hands scrambled for the pistol in the folds of her dress. She lifted it up, fired once at one of the Magna Guard’s eyes. The red eyes flashed once, but they were shielded better than Padmé anticipated: they simply shook their heads, as though shaking away an annoying fly before taking closer steps towards Padmé.

Padmé scrambled to her feet, taking quick steps backwards as she kept her pistol leveled towards the Magna Guards. She was aware of Mas Amedda still standing by his desk, that awful smile still on his lips.

Padmé fired again.

The Magna Guards kept coming, their steps quickening, staffs flashing before her.

Padmé fired a last time—and this time, one of the Magna Guards shut down.

But there were still too many—another two, and they were coming quickly. One of them rose their staff towards Padmé, and she again tumbled to the side, just narrowly missing the staff. She could feel the heat of the electricity just barely brush past her cheek, her neck as she crashed against another wall. Her hands were already slicked with sweat, her breathing unsteady as she lifted her eyes up at her attackers.

She was _not_ going to die here.

Padmé lifted her pistol again. She was _not_ going to die here.

She fired: two quick shots, each shot aimed for the Magna Guards’ eyes. They flickered once, but they were still advancing.

She was _not_ going to die here.

 _No,_ a voice suddenly whispered, and Padmé froze, her gaze flickering around the office. _You’re not_.

And then, coolly, clearly into Padmé’s head: _duck_.

Padmé only had a second to prepare before the glass of the panoramic windows shattered, and she flung herself to the ground before she could be impaled by any of the deadly shards. She heard boots, a sharp cry, a light saber.

_A light saber?_

Padmé lifted her head, and when she saw him, her breath caught in her throat.

Anakin.

Not Anakin—no, it was _Anakin_ —dark curls brushing past his forehead, his lips upturned in that cocky smile that she had memorized like it was her home. But there was something else about him: something so terribly, wholly different, starting with the sickly yellow that had replaced the sky blue of his eyes.

No, this wasn’t Anakin.

This was someone else.

But Padmé still scrambled up to her feet. “You—”

“Me,” Anakin agreed.

Padmé lifted her pistol. Anakin eyed the tip of it warily.

Padmé turned the pistol and fired it at the Magna Guards. She heard the sudden, slow droop of the Magna Guards as they powered down under her rapid fire shots. Even with each shot, though, Padmé kept her eyes trained on Anakin.

Anakin, to his credit, didn’t blink.

“Well,” he said, that cocky smile of his spreading wider across his face. “I should have known.”

 _Don’t smile at me_ , Padmé thought.

“And I should have known,” Mas Amedda breathed.

Padmé and Anakin both whirled around to the Chancellor, who was standing away from his desk.

“Ah, yes,” Anakin said, bored. “You.” He swung his light saber expertly around his hands. “I should have known Palpatine would have left a trail.”

 _Palpatine_ — _should have known_ —so Anakin _knew_?

_Was that why he—Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka—killed Palpatine?_

_Did they know?_

_But if they were Sith—_

Padmé’s head was spinning.

But Anakin was already advancing on Mas Amedda, his light saber—red, glowing—still twirling around his hands. Padmé barely had time to prepare herself before there was the sound of a light saber digging itself into someone’s chest, a strangled gasp, a light saber shutting off.

Padmé’s ears rung as Mas Amedda’s body dropped to the ground.

Anakin turned around to Padmé. “My Lady,” he said, tilting his head.

Padmé only stared. “You—”

“Well, either he had to go or one of us. I think I chose correctly.”

Padmé’s mouth went dry. “ _You_ ,” she repeated, trying to control her voice.

And then she found her control.

“ _You_ ,” she growled, tightening her grip on her pistol. “Anakin Skywalker, you have _so much explaining to do_.”

Anakin smiled. It was chilling and warm at once.

It should not have been so.

“I know, my love,” he said, his voice just barely dipping into a bare softness. “There will be time for explanations soon.” He looked down at Mas Amedda’s body, still lying on the ground. “But not yet.”

Padmé watched Anakin leap out of the window.

She raced to the edge, watching a dark flutter of his robes, and then he was gone.

\--

“Well,” Anakin said, flipping through the channels before him. Each channel featured some variation of the story that everyone in the apartment already knew: the interim Chancellor Mas Amedda found dead in his office. Senator Amidala attacked by Magna Guards. People were calling forth conspiracies between the Separatists. That much was a mess that Anakin _supposed_ he could have handled better, which Obi-Wan was sure to tell him as they regarded the news. Still—“I did my best, didn’t I?”

“Perhaps,” Obi-Wan mused. “The Republic will certainly have its fair share of things to worry about for now.”

“Perfect,” Ahsoka said, shutting off the news. “They’re about to get ready for one more trick.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan beamed proudly at their little acolyte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently Mas Amedda knew about Palpatine being Darth Sidious, so we had to take care of him. 
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	4. Ahsoka & Rex

Despite the chaos of the last few months, Rex wasn’t at all surprised by the shattered glass of the Chancellor’s office, nor was he surprised when Padmé told him that Anakin Skywalker had jumped out of the window. _Of_ course _he did_ , was all Rex could think as Padmé and he stepped around the ruins of the office. Mas Amedda’s body had been swept away, and a few droids picked through the remnants of the office, supposedly for evidence, but Rex knew that all evidence would just be a formality—Padmé had witnessed Anakin Skywalker crash into the office and take Mas Amedda’s life.

“He said things,” Padmé said now, her voice distant. “Mas Amedda. About Palpatine. How the Republic was rotten.” She looked at Rex, her brows furrowed. “Mas Amedda was tied up with Dooku and Palpatine in some way or another, and Anakin—”

Rex’s blood ran cold as he looked back out the broken window. A sharp breeze blew through the office. “Senator,” he said slowly. “Do you mean to tell me that Skywalker’s motives for the recent murders—”

“Are more complicated than we thought,” Padmé finished. She crossed her arms, staring grimly out at the skyline, as though she could find Anakin somewhere on that horizon. “His, as well as his companions.”

Rex’s heart sank. He turned towards the horizon. He knew that their trio had to be somewhere on the planet, but the idea of them lounging around in the dark corners of Coruscant sent an unwanted chill down his spine.

And if Rex hadn’t been there to witness the initial chaos himself, he wouldn’t have ever believed that Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka could ever truly turn into…whatever they were now.

But he _had_ witnessed that initial chaos.

He had been right there, along with Cody and with the rest of the 501st and the 212th when those three had staggered out of the ship, their eyes a strange shade of amber-gold. At first, no one had known what to do. Rex had been the first one to tentatively call out for them—“sir?”—and then they had all lifted their heads, that chilling light in their eyes.

“Change in plans,” Anakin had said. Rex remembered thinking that his voice was _wrong_. He had heard Anakin take on so many different tones—he knew when his general was relaxed, pleased, angered. But this was something else. The voice Anakin had used then was low, oddly fluid in a way that Rex hadn’t heard before. “We’re heading right for Coruscant.”

There had been confusion. Rex had thought they were there to collect the origins of some mystery call, but no one was about to argue. So they had turned the cruiser around, and for the first time since Rex had been a captain—no, since the first time Rex had been alive, period, the ship had gone eerily quiet. Tense.

Everyone in the 501st and the 212th knew what that meant. Everyone had been in the war long enough to know the calm before the storm of blaster fire and explosives and death.

But the storm that wrecked the ship that day wasn’t one of blaster fire and death—not the death of the 501st or the 212th, at least, which Rex was still trying to figure out on his own.

The storm had been a sudden, brief flicker of emergency lights, and then the shutting down of all communication systems. Rex had been in the bridge, watching the last of the holograms in front of him cut out, listening to the scramble of radios as the red lights washed over the entire ship.

And Rex had felt the sudden _lurch_ in the ship, only not the kind that Rex had felt before, not when he had been on ships that had shot engines or shields. No, that lurch had been of a different kind, one that swayed troopers in a dead faint.

Rex had felt something then too—a surge of _something_ rush through him, send a shriek of pain through his head, but he had pushed past it as he ran out of the bridge, scrambling to find out _what the hell_ was going on—

And then he had skidded to a stop in the hanger, where he saw Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka walking back into their ship.

Rex had shouted after them, but only Ahsoka had turned back around.

And Rex remembered how she waved—actually _waved_ , her dark lips pulled back into a smile that Rex had never seen before. And then he had watched, his head reeling in disbelief and confusion as the ship had taken off.

The lights had flickered back on shortly after, as well as the communication systems. Rex was sure to find that none of the men had been injured in any way. Most just complained of a headache, while others suffered from some dizzy spells, but by the time they landed on Coruscant, everyone was more shaken than anything else.

Rex just didn’t understand how or why that had all happened. Just that it _had_ , and in the next few weeks, he had heard stories of a certain three former Jedi that was wreaking havoc across the galaxy. First there had been the complete infiltration of the higher-level war administration, and then the sudden dismantling of weapons factories across both Republican and Separatist forces. And then there had been the murder of Chancellor Palpatine and Mas Amedda, who, according to Padmé, might not have been on the side of the Republic at all.

There were too many tangled strands in the web of destruction in the last few weeks, and every time Rex thought he came closer to understanding what exactly was happening around him, something else would happen, leaving him more confused than ever. All he knew for certain was that the generals and the commander he knew were replaced by something else—something that convinced them to seemingly disrupt the galaxy even more than the war itself.

“How did Skywalker seem to you?” Rex asked at last, looking over at the senator.

Padmé kept her eyes out to the horizon. For a long time, she didn’t speak, and Rex wondered if maybe he had crossed some line, but then Padmé said, “The same. And entirely different.” She frowned, turning to Rex. “Do you know what I mean?”

Rex thought about their strange gold eyes. “Yes,” he replied.

\--

Rex was still thinking about the crime scene when he was walking back to the barracks. The streets were hushed, quiet save for the few troopers who were still standing guard around the sector. Other than the distant gleam of their armor and the main fluorescents lighting up the entryway of the barracks, the area was dark. Coruscant’s once-cheerful glimmer of neon had long since flickered out since the first hushed murmurs of the strangers in their streets.

A part of Rex missed it—those lights, cheerful even in the midst of a war.

The sheer absence of them only reminded Rex that there was a definite shift in the tide of the galaxy: a shift in the way things were being done and in how things were to be.

And then, almost as though in response to Rex’s thoughts, Rex felt movement in the air behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and a second too late, he heard the warning cries of the guards standing in front of the barracks before he whirled around to find Ahsoka Tano leap down in front of him.

“Hello, Captain,” Ahsoka said, slowly standing up from her crouch. “Care to join me on a walk?”

If Rex ignored the low trill under her voice, the flash of fiery gold and orange hues in Ahsoka’s eyes, he could have actually pretended that this was the same kid he had met on Christophsis. He could have pretended that the smile she gave him was the same joking kind that she would give him before she went off to do something that would usually result in some exasperation and annoyance from Anakin and Obi-Wan.

But Rex couldn’t ignore those strange flickering eyes, the even stranger hum in Ahsoka’s voice. This was not the same kid he had met on Christophsis.

Rex heard more shouts from behind him, then racing footsteps, but before he could shout his warning, Ahsoka’s eyes flicked past his shoulder.

“Don’t—” Rex started, but Ahsoka only flicked her wrist, and then Rex turned around to see the guards tumbling backwards. They scrambled back up to their feet, blasters already at the ready, and even from a distance, Rex could see the slight tremble in their grip as they focused their aim on Ahsoka—this child, Rex knew, that they had at least caught a glimpse of once or twice, perhaps even more.

“Captain,” Ahsoka said, her voice dangerously quiet. “You might want to tell them to stand down.”

Rex spun around to Ahsoka. He noticed the sabers still resting at her hips, but she hadn’t moved for them. But the look she gave him—that otherworldly gaze that made her look both older and younger than she actually was.

Rex heard himself speak before he was aware of what he was actually saying. “Lower your weapons,” he told the troopers. He heard their protests, but Rex swung his gaze back around to them. Then, slowly, reluctantly, they lowered their blasters.

A quiet huff from Ahsoka told Rex that she was satisfied. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice oddly cheerful. “I’ll return your captain in one piece.”

The troopers only stared at Rex, and even through their helmets, Rex could feel their eyes trained on Ahsoka and him as he turned back to the girl. She had her hands lightly resting on her biceps, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Come along, Captain,” Ahsoka said, turning around. “We’ve got much to discuss.”

\--

Rex expected Ahsoka to tell him to leave his blasters behind. Or tell him to jam his comlink. Anything, really, but Ahsoka did neither. Her hands swung casually at her sides, fingers occasionally drumming against her thighs to some song that only she could hear.

Rex kept a careful distance away from her, his whole body already sore and aching from the effort of remaining high-strung, on high-alert when months on top of months of fighting by Ahsoka’s side told him to relax. But he couldn’t relax, not with Ahsoka acting and looking in a way that he had never seen before.

“Where are you taking me?” Rex asked at last.

“Whoever said I was taking you anywhere?” Ahsoka asked. “Isn’t it enough for two friends to enjoy a nice walk?” She didn’t seem to notice that they were the only ones out on the street. Or maybe she did. And if she did, Rex had no doubt that this strange being in front of her enjoyed every second of it.

“We’re not friends.” It pained Rex to say those words, but he had to say those words aloud for himself. A reminder that this person standing next to him was not the same kid nor the same commander he had spent the last year and a half fighting with.

Ahsoka sucked on her teeth—a quiet, disappointed sound. “Well,” she said, “can’t say that I’m surprised you feel that way.” She cast Rex a sidelong glance, her head tilted slightly to the side. The movement was eerie, the way her amber eyes flicked over him eerier. “But you’re right. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

And then, faster than Rex could react, Ahsoka whipped out her sabers and slammed them through the doors of the building they were standing next to.

Rex jumped, his hands already darting for his blasters, but Ahsoka rolled her eyes. “Relax,” she hummed. “Property damage is going to be the least of your concerns.” She withdrew her sabers ( _red_ , Rex recognized dully) as a high-pitched alarm sounded.

“What are you _doing_?” Rex asked at last, once he was able to find his voice. He looked up at the building, his heart plunging. One of the administrative buildings. And not just any old administrative building, but the one responsible for clone trooper intel—

“You’ll see,” Ahsoka said, unruffled by the continuing wail of the alarm. She tilted her head back to the windows of the building. “We’ll need most of the guards out here for what we’re about to do.”

“And what exactly is— _hey!_ ” Rex didn’t even have a second to prepare himself as he was suddenly flung upwards by an invisible hands, and then he was perched at the sill of a window, the wind bracing against him as Ahsoka jumped up beside him a moment later.

“Quiet,” Ahsoka only said, nodding pointedly down at where they had been just moments ago.

Sure enough, when Rex looked down, there were already other troopers rushing out the door, blasters at the ready. Rex turned to Ahsoka, who only lifted a slender finger to her upturned lips. The gesture was enough for Rex to choose to keep quiet as Ahsoka slid open the window, and then they were both tumbling in.

The smell of antiseptic and other medical materials hit Rex’s nose first. And then, blinking in the dim light of the room, Rex saw a cot, a scanning device. Needles and other surgery tools. Rex frowned, turning to Ahsoka, his mouth already opening to demand an explanation, but Ahsoka was already at the other end of the room, where a single desk was pushed against the wall.

“What are you _doing_?” Rex growled. “What are we doing here?”

Ahsoka didn’t bother turning around as she rifled through the desk. Rex heard a few murmurs which he couldn’t quite catch, and then a breathy “ _there_ you are”. A moment later, Rex caught the glint of what looked like a decorated disk—but no, not a disk, Rex realized as Ahsoka walked towards him. A frame. A small, rectangular frame with some bloody _thing_ sitting under the glass.

“You’re going to want to present this to whoever’s in charge,” Ahsoka said, pressing the small frame into Rex’s hand. She tapped a finger on her chin. “Who _is_ in charge now? Now that Palpatine and Mas Amedda are gone…” She smiled. “Or you could just show it to Senator Amidala. I’m sure she’ll be interested.”

As soon as those words left her lips, there was a shout from somewhere outside the hallway. Ahsoka sighed loudly, already reaching for her sabers.

“Wait,” Rex started, but then the doors slid open, revealing a furious Kaminoan.

“What are _you_ doing here?” the Kaminoan seethed, but not at Ahsoka—no, he was looking at Rex. At the frame still clutched in Rex’s hand. “You are _not authorized_ —” But he didn’t get to finish his sentence, because in a flash of red and white, the Kaminoan’s head rolled away from its neck.

Rex barely contained a shout as Ahsoka hooked her sabers back to her hips. “Well,” she said, kicking— _kicking_ —the head aside. “That’s _that_.” She turned back around to Rex, and at his horrified gaze, she rolled her eyes. “It was either us or him, Captain. Surely, you know that by now.”

“You—” Rex’s blood ran cold. A million thoughts rushed through his head, not one of them coherent. “He was _unarmed!_ ”

“So?” Ahsoka asked, examining her boot. She frowned. “Ugh,” she said, bracing her boot against the ground. “Looks like I’ve got something there. And I just cleaned them, too.”

Rex didn’t dare look. “You—”

Ahsoka sighed loudly. “I know, I know—unarmed Kaminoan, boo-hoo.” Rex flinched at the callousness in the girl’s voice. “Don’t worry about it, Captain,” she said, brushing an invisible speck of dust from her shoulder. “You’ll be glad that he’s gone in a few hours, so long as you look into _that_.” She nodded down at the frame in Rex’s hand.

Then, turning back around to the desk, Ahsoka picked something else up. A small drive, the kind that Rex knew he would have to plug into a computer. She tossed it to him, and he caught it one-handed. “Take a look at that, too,” Ahsoka said. “With Senator Amidala, if you will. And Duchess Kryze, if she’s still around. I’m sure her pacifist self would be very much an advocate of what’s to come in the next few days. Boring, but.” She shrugged. “Obi-Wan was insistent.”

So they _were_ all together, but Rex didn’t dare let himself react as Ahsoka stretched her arms over her head. “I suspect you’ll be found out soon,” Ahsoka said, glancing out the door. “And I’d hate for you to get caught a traitor before the real fun begins.”

“What—”

And then Ahsoka plucked out one of Rex’s blaster and, not even flinching, aimed it at her shoulder.

Before Rex could even grab it back, there was an ear-numbing cry of the blaster, followed by Ahsoka’s sharp yelp of pain. The blaster dropped to the ground, and Ahsoka briefly swayed, one hand reaching up to her smoking shoulder.

Rex’s mouth dried. For that small instance, he forgot what Ahsoka had just done. “Commander, you need—”

But Ahsoka smiled at him, her teeth flashing through her lips. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, her voice tight with pain. “Just don’t disappoint me.” Then, with a final smile, she pushed past Rex and barreled out the door.

Rex raced out after her in time to see her shove past incoming troopers. Rex waited for the flash of red sabers, for some terrible fate to come across his brothers, but she simply leapt up to the vents. There were a few rumbles of her feet and hands braced against the surface above them, but in a few seconds, those rumbles faded.

Ahsoka Tano had disappeared.

\--

“Was shooting yourself really necessary?” Anakin asked, binding the last of the gauze around Ahsoka’s shoulder.

“Was breaking the window really necessary?” Ahsoka countered.

“Dramatic, the two of you,” Obi-Wan said in feigned exasperation by the window.

“We learned from the best, Master,” Ahsoka said, flashing the man a canine-exposing smile.

“Of course you did,” Obi-Wan said dryly. His golden eyes glimmered as he turned his gaze towards Anakin and Ahsoka. “Well done.”

“Was that a compliment I hear?” Anakin asked, winding his way from Ahsoka to Obi-Wan’s side.

Obi-Wan only smiled. “Perhaps,” he replied. “A congratulations are in order very soon.”

Ahsoka flicked on the news. Sure enough, the story of implanted chips in the clone troopers made its way across the lower banners of the screen. Senator Amidala stood before the Senate, her face the perfect example of a worried—yet determined—leader, desperate to root out the true implications of the recent events.

“Make that _very_ soon,” Ahsoka said, leaning back against the counter. Ignoring the protest in her shoulder, she turned to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “Very, _very_ soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our sweet, precious Ahsoka Tano? Beheading someone? Proceeding to kick the head away? Yes, you've got that right. (Obi-Wan in the Clone Wars: Stealth book by Karen Miller described Ahsoka as 'feral', and there are other instances in TCW which has always struck me as Ahsoka being the kind of person who does not pull her punches whatsoever. I've also thought about that scene in 4x12 when Ahsoka decapitated four Death Watch people's heads. Basically, yes, our child is sweet and precious, but we all know we wouldn't want to be on the other end of her power.)
> 
> In case you couldn't tell, the chapters have grown increasingly longer as I cover more and more ground in this little what-if? scenario. Last chapter will be coming next week!
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


	5. The Fall of the Sith

Everyone knew the rumors.

Everyone knew the rumors of how it was that three fallen Jedi had seemingly killed Chancellor Palpatine, then Vice Chair Mas Amedda, and then the Kaminoans who had been responsible for implanting chips into the clone army of the Republic. Everyone knew the rumors of how it was that three fallen Jedi had seemingly overturned the reality of the Republic in the span of a few days, and in the process, the war had somehow grinded to a halt.

In the midst of the clone troopers removing their chips, a sudden disorganization amongst the Separatist side seemed to have caused them to halt their battles. There were whispers and rumors that Chancellor Palpatine and the great Sith Lord who had created the war were one and the same—that the murder of Chancellor Palpatine hadn’t necessarily been done out of malice but out of some other twisted form of vengeance, justice.

But that term— _justice_ —applied to the three fallen Jedi (for they were still forever fallen in the mind of the galaxy, darklings of the Force) caused a shiver to run down the spine of anyone who dared think on what exactly that meant for the galaxy should the notion of _justice_ be handed down to, in simplest terms, a band of vigilantes—in worst terms, a band of murderers.

As for the fallen Jedi themselves, well.

They weren’t too impressed with the names tossed around them. Vigilante, murderer. It was all the same for the darklings.

“You know,” Anakin mused, lounging in his bed, sheets pooled around his bare hips, “if it wasn’t for the fact that Padmé was the one making those pretty speeches, I would have voted for us to leave a long time ago.” He rolled over on his side, flicking through the channels on the screen in front of him. A slow smile crept up his face as he beheld the image of Padmé Amidala—now declared Chancellor—standing before him on the screen. Her face was a solid mask of cold determination, the kind that made something in Anakin throb and ache with a physical need.

“Well, thank the Force for small miracles,” Obi-Wan said dryly, stepping out of the refresher. He was toweling away his damp hair, flecks of water landing on the blankets. He tossed the towel onto the bed, narrowly missing Anakin’s head. “Come now—you can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Why not?” Anakin asked, lazily leaning back against the mattress. He brought his hands behind his neck, smirking up at Obi-Wan. “It’s not like we have anywhere to be right now.”

“For now,” Obi-Wan replied. He sat down on the edge of the bed, using the Force to tug over his boots. He started to tug them on, ignoring Anakin’s little click of his tongue.

“Using the Force for frivolous things,” he said. “How hypocritical.”

Obi-Wan only cast Anakin a backward glance, just enough so that Anakin could make out that flash of gold in his eyes. Anakin smirked, and with an exaggerated sigh, he sat up, not bothering with the sheets that dipped dangerously past his hips.

“So,” he drawled. “Where exactly do you expect us to be?”

A corner of Obi-Wan’s lips twitched. “I suspect we’ll find out soon.”

As if on cue, Ahsoka strolled through the bedroom door, arms crossed over her shoulders. Her wound had healed nicely, with only a faint scar being left in the place where she had shot herself. “We’ve got visitors,” Ahsoka said.

“Looks like you’ll have to get dressed after all, Anakin,” Obi-Wan mused, throwing his tunic his way.

Catching it one-handed, Anakin sighed. “If you insist,” he said. He tugged his tunic over his head, and using the Force to bring over his pants, he added, “Do I need to ask who our visitors are, or are we better off surprised?”

Ahsoka’s amber eyes glimmered. “Take a wild guess,” she said, jerking her head away from the bedroom, towards the main interior of the apartment.

Anakin glanced over at Obi-Wan. “Well,” he said, straightening out his pants, “better not keep them waiting.”

\--

They found their guests in the sitting room. They were standing and remained so as Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka walked out of the bedroom. One didn’t need to be in tune to the Force to feel the tension roiling from Senator Amidala, Duchess Kryze, and Captain Rex. They were dressed in subtler clothes: civilian clothes. They hadn’t wanted to attract attention, then, for the obvious reasons. Even with their faces kept impressively stoic, the darklings registered the tightness in their guests’ shoulders, the slight shift in their stances at the arrival of the hosts.

A silence stretched between them as each person regarded the other with a wary eyes—or, at least, Padmé, Satine, and Rex were the ones looking wary. Their counterparts met their gazes with a chilling kind of carelessness. Ahsoka even smiled, flashing a glint of sharp canines.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said at last, sliding into an armchair with liquid ease, “I’ll admit I didn’t expect you three to find us so quickly.” He leaned back, resting his elbows on the armrests, his hands clasped in casual contemplation. “Or are we really growing that sloppy?”

“You three aren’t the only ones with tricks up their sleeves,” Padmé said coolly. Her dark eyes swept over Obi-Wan, then Ahsoka, and then lastly Anakin. “But then again,” she said, “you three wanted to be found, didn’t you.” Not a question.

Anakin only leaned against one side of the armchair, one hand casually brushing the armrest. “And you wanted to find us,” he said. “Didn’t you.”

“For answers,” Padmé said, unruffled by the long look Anakin gave her.

Obi-Wan’s lips curled. “You will have to be a little more specific than that, Senator,” he said. “Answers about what, exactly?”

Ahsoka sighed loudly, resting against Obi-Wan’s other side of the armchair. “Isn’t it obvious, Master?” she asked, propping the side of her head up on her hand. “Look at them,” she said in feigned sympathy. “They’re still so _surprised_ , aren’t they?”

She tilted her head to the side, assessing the guests. Then, with a slow smile, she added, “But not just surprised.” She looked over at Anakin and Obi-Wan, her expression turned cruelly teasing. “I think they feel something a little _deeper_ than that.” She turned back to the guests. “Isn’t that right?”

“We are not here to discuss such matters.” Satine was the one who spoke. Her voice was level, her whole form still as three sets of golden-amber eyes fixed on her. Her shoulders squared as she met those gazes dead-on. “Clearly, you three seem to be content in wreaking havoc. And yet…” She narrowed her eyes. “Each action you three have executed in the last few days has only resulted in unveiling the corruption of this government. Why?”

“Must we need a reason?” Obi-Wan asked, tilting his head back. He flicked his eyes at Satine. “Last I checked, Duchess, you seemed content in staying out of matters of the Republic.” He dropped his head back down, resting the side of his face on a hand. “Or am I to assume you have found some new reasons now?”

“You are to assume nothing.”

“Very well, my darling.”

To her credit, Satine didn’t so much as blink at Obi-Wan’s words. Her blue eyes remained icy, unbothered by the tension crackling in the room.

“Truth be told,” Anakin said at last, examining his nails, “we didn’t have a reason.” He flicked his eyes over to the guests. “Maybe we were just bored. Maybe we just wanted to have some fun. You know how we need to keep ourselves entertained.”

“You weren’t bored,” Rex said suddenly. His jaw clenched as he took a step forward, his eyes unfaltering as he said, “When you three came back to the cruiser. You had a _goal_. You wanted to go right back to Coruscant.” He gestured out the windows, where the city spread before the rising sun. “Right _here_ , the heart of the Republic. And everything you’ve done afterwards—that was all pre-meditated.”

“Your point?” Ahsoka asked.

Rex stared. “If you were bored, why didn’t you just kill the 501st?” he asked. “One of the strongest legions of the Republic—someone who was bored would have just taken care of us right there. But you three didn’t. Which means,” he added, “you three already knew _exactly_ who you wanted to take care of.”

He reached into his utility belt and held up the disc that had been handed to him just a few days ago. “And _this_ ,” he added. “You wanted us to find this for some reason.” He set it down on the coffee table, his face stony as he replied, “Imagine our surprise when we found out that the Sith Lord was parading around as the Chancellor and _ordered_ implantations for us to wipe out the Jedi.”

“Must have been a nasty shock,” Ahsoka mused.

“Particularly so,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Sorry to have missed on that fun.” Anakin.

“If you were bored, you could have killed the Jedi too,” Padmé said, ignoring the comments. “You know the ins-and-outs of the Temple.”

“And what a light show that would have been,” Anakin commented.

“I’m afraid we’re still waiting for the point,” Obi-Wan said, rolling his neck around his shoulders, bored.

Padmé’s voice was hard as she said, “Finish the job.”

That created a jolt through the whole room—not just amongst the darklings, but also amongst Rex and Satine. They both looked at Padmé incredulously as she repeated, “It’s all fine and good that you’ve taken care of Chancellor Palpatine and Mas Amedda, but there’s still the other Separatists to take care of.” Her voice dropped and she took a bold step forward, her dark eyes glittering and unforgiving under the glow of the rising sun.

“You’re really bored?” she asked. Another step closer. Rex made a sound of discomfort, but she didn’t stop until she was mere inches away from the three darklings. “Finish the job.” She crossed her arms over herself, lifted her chin. “Somewhere out there, Dooku and General Grievous are still alive. Do you really think they’ll crawl back into their holes in this war?”

Obi-Wan lifted his eyebrows. “The peaceful senator from Naboo, asking us to take care of the Separatists? A surprise indeed.”

“No,” Padmé replied. “Just organized.” She jerked her chin behind herself, to where Satine and Rex were still staring wide-eyed at Padmé. “We’ll be waiting tonight in front of the Senate Building. Sundown. Don’t be late. Understood?”

A silence.

“And if we don’t show?” Anakin asked.

Padmé gave him a cool look. She didn’t deign giving an answer before she turned around, leaving the apartment. Satine and Rex lingered, giving the darklings a wary glance—and then they followed.

\--

They didn’t speak until they were back at the Senate Building.

“Do you think it worked?” Satine asked, crashing onto the couch in Padmé’s office.

“It better,” Padmé said. She leaned against her desk, her heart still pounding hard in her chest. “Rex?”

“Coordinates already wired into the ship,” Rex replied. “And the ventilation system’s prepped.”

“Won’t they sense the trap?” Satine asked, looking between the two.

“Let’s aim for optimism,” Padmé said. She let out a breath, reached for the blaster tucked in the drawer of her desk. She set it down on the surface, a chill running up her spine about the potential need to use it during the next few hours. Hopefully not. Because if she did—

She banished the thought. Turned around to Satine and Rex. “Are we sure the coordinates will take us to…wherever they were?” she asked Rex.

“It’ll take us to where they appeared,” Rex replied. “As for if we’ll actually manage to get there…” His voice drifted uncertainly. “Senator, you have to realize that they arrived out of nowhere. One second they weren’t there, and the next they were.”

Padmé’s mouth dried. “Well,” she said weakly, “let’s hope for the best then.”

\--

The front of the Senate Building was empty by the time Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka walked onto the platform. Perhaps an unusual sight, but the three were unbothered and remained to appear so as Padmé, Satine, and Rex all walked towards them.

“Good, you’re here on time,” Padmé said. She gestured towards the ship waiting for them. “We have no time to waste.”

“Rush, rush,” Obi-Wan murmured, but he stepped up to the ship, Anakin and Ahsoka trailing close behind. They were little more than a cloud of darkness, their cloaks seeming to swallow light itself as they moved through the otherwise bright ship. The ship itself shivered in their presence, at the unnaturalness of it all.

And Padmé, Satine, and Rex didn’t dare say a word as they walked up the ramp to the ship. Nor did they look at one another as they made their way to the cockpit. “We’ve already set the coordinates,” Rex said, his voice steady, even as he started up the ship. The engines roared to life, and then they were rising off the landing platform, getting ready to shoot out of Coruscant.

“You’ve prepared for this,” Anakin commented, his yellow eyes roving around the ship’s interior. “For some time now.”

“Surprised?” Satine asked, sitting down at one of the seats.

“Hardly,” came Obi-Wan’s response. “But a rather interesting development.”

A pause in the cockpit.

And then Padmé said, “I have already told you: you three aren’t the only ones with tricks up their sleeves.”

A light laugh, this time from Ahsoka. “A good thing too,” she said, flopping down to one of the seats. “It would be terrible if you _bored_ us.”

Another chill shuddered through the ship.

“Yes,” Padmé only said. “Terrible indeed.”

\--

They only had a little while left before the ship would jump out of hyperspace.

Each movement had to count.

Padmé reached over to flick one of the controls—it wouldn’t do anything save turn on the lights somewhere in the back of the ship, but she knew that somewhere, Rex had seen those lights flick on and was probably on his way to prepare the ventilation system. She hadn’t known what exactly Rex had managed to prep the ventilation system with—just that he had assured her that whatever gas came flooding in would just be enough to knock any living creature out for a few hours.

They just needed to get their guests out to a space for the gas to come in. Not the cockpit, otherwise Padmé and Satine would be knocked out too—and not the rest of the ship, otherwise Rex would be knocked out. They had eventually selected two hallways, both of them closer to the back of the ship.

It was only a matter of getting them to that point.

Padmé glanced toward Satine. The duchess had been still for the whole duration of the trip, not bothering to say a word except a murmur or two about needing to change the temperature in the cockpit. But now, Satine stood and said, “I don’t suppose one of you would know how to fix a mechanism in the ship, would you?”

Satine had been the one to suggest she ask the question first. They had all agreed that Padmé and Rex asking such would be too risky with their own history with Anakin’s tinkering.

Sure enough, Anakin now asked, “Your friends didn’t tell you?”

Padmé forced herself to keep her eyes out the viewport. She could feel Anakin fix on her, but she wouldn’t give him an inch. They were almost there—they just needed to get everyone out of this cockpit. A few more minutes, and then this all would be over.

“We’ve been a bit busy discussing other things,” Satine said, standing up.

Padmé heard the smirk in Anakin’s voice as he replied, “Fair.” She saw him shift out of his seat, followed by, “Well, Duchess—lead the way.”

The doors slid open, slid shut.

Padmé waited five minutes exactly before standing up herself. “You two will need to come with me for a moment,” she said. “Regarding some new intel about Grievous and Dooku’s locations.”

“You choose to tell us this information now, with Anakin gone?” Obi-Wan asked coolly.

“Satine will let Anakin know,” Padmé replied, keeping her face as blank as possible. In reality, Padmé hoped Satine had led Anakin to the hall by now. Padmé wasn’t a fool. She knew just how powerful Anakin was—just how dangerous he could be alone, but with Obi-Wan and Ahsoka at his side—Padmé didn’t even want to think about it, not after seeing the lightsaber marks on Chancellor Palpatine’s body.

“Follow me,” Padmé said, and she started out the cockpit, a little too aware of the sweep of their cloaks behind her. But besides that, their steps were soundless. Padmé again hoped that Satine had managed to get Anakin to the hallway designated to him.

Padmé rounded a corner. Forced herself to start speaking, forced her mind to remain as blank as possible as she said, “We’ve been looking for Dooku and Grievous for a while now. The last reports indicated that they were somewhere in wild space. We’ve already mapped out enough locations that they could be, but we need to narrow down the search to the planet that they’re on.” She managed a backwards glance at them. “That’s where you two will come in.”

“We are not your trackers, Senator,” Ahsoka said softly. Dangerously. “I hope you realize that, for your sake.”

Padmé kept her voice even as she replied, “I am well aware.”

They rounded another corner. Padmé could feel the two behind her closer now, feel their breaths and their icy presence. But she kept her head high, her spine straight as she continued down the halls. She was almost there. She just needed to turn another two corners, and then they would be at the hallway, and Rex would flood the area with gas.

One corner.

And then suddenly, the distant sweep of cloaks stopped.

Padmé’s heart skipped, but she forced herself to slow. “Is there something wrong?” she asked, turning around.

Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s heads were both tilted, as if listening to something far, far away.

For a moment, no one said anything.

And then, faster than Padmé could even blink, there was a flash of red, and then Padmé found herself at the end of three red sabers pointed right at her chin. She swallowed down a gasp, forced herself still as Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s golden eyes flashed at her.

“What did you do to Anakin?” Obi-Wan’s voice was a low growl.

“He’s safe,” Padmé managed to reply. “No harm will come to him.”

“You lie,” Ahsoka hissed. Padmé tilted her head back slightly as Ahsoka came nearer to her. The girl’s face was so young and yet so full of a fierce loathing that cracked something in Padmé’s chest. “You’re planning something.”

“Tell me, Senator,” Obi-Wan said, narrowing his eyes, “did you truly expect to fool the three of us?”

And then Padmé caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Rex, twin blasters held at the ready. Padmé prayed they were on stun.

“No,” Padmé replied. She could feel the heat of the lightsabers beneath her chin. She forced herself to smile back, channeling all her own frustration and anger— _rage_ —into that one smile. “I expected to at least knock you three out first.”

And then Rex was shouting something, and then Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were both turning around, lightsabers drawn at the ready. There was the sound of blaster fire, and the hallway lit up with blue laser and red blades. And Padmé’s hand dove to the folds of her clothes, and she just barely whipped out her own pistol by the time Ahsoka dove at her.

Sparks flew from where Ahsoka’s sabers made contact with the walls. Padmé crashed against the opposite wall, her heart hammering hard in her chest. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Padmé gasped, pushing herself down the hall.

Ahsoka bared her teeth. “You should have thought of that before,” she hissed. And she _lunged_.

Padmé threw herself around the corner. She just had to get to that other hallway—that was all she needed to do—

Somewhere in the distance, she heard shouting and more blaster fire, and then—

Satine’s voice, a booming, “ _Obi-Wan Kenobi—_ ”

Padmé only hoped that Satine and Rex were enough to draw Obi-Wan back to the other hallway, even if Anakin was already in there. Judging by Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s reactions, Anakin had to already be knocked out, but if they weren’t able to manage to get Obi-Wan away, then—

But Padmé had her own problems. She sprinted through the hallway, pistol still clutched in her sweat-slicked hand. There—she saw the door to the gassed hallway and whirled around, forcing herself to smile again. “I thought you would be faster than that,” she said. She managed to laugh: a somewhat hysterical laugh, one that Padmé didn’t have to fake. She would have started weeping if she could, that was how terrified she was—the terror of the last few weeks of watching people who she had loved and thought to had lost suddenly lashing out now before her—that terror was enough to make Padmé want to scream and scream until she had nothing left.

But they were so close, so _close_ to finally getting answers. She couldn’t give up now, not when there could be a solution just waiting for them.

“Well?” Padmé shouted. “Don’t tell me you’ve already tired out!”

It worked. Ahsoka snarled, and she dove for Padmé.

And Padmé, at the last second, rolled away and punched the button for the doors to open.

Ahsoka came tumbling in to that hallway—to that hallway now already practically white with gas, and Padmé slammed the door shut, just barely dodging the twin sabers that came spearing through the metal. Padmé stumbled back a few steps, watching with wide-eyes as those sabers started to dig down to the door.

And then, nearly collapsing from relief, Padmé watched those sabers come to a slow stop, as though whoever was holding them was being dragged under. Being forced to stop.

Padmé slumped against a wall, her limbs trembling from the effort of keeping herself upright. Her blood was roaring in her ears, her head aching and dizzy with the shock of the last few minutes.

She almost jumped when her comlink went off.

“Senator? Are you alright?”

Padmé let out a choked sob. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m alright, Captain.” She turned to where the still-molten marks of the lightsabers on the hallway door. “What about you? Duchess Kryze?”

“We’re fine,” came Satine’s voice. A disgusted huff, and then, “I can’t say the same for Master Kenobi, it would seem.”

“Does that mean—”

“He’s out,” Rex replied tightly. “In with Anakin.”

Padmé sighed. Good. That was good. “Good,” she let herself say. “I’ll meet you two in the cockpit.”

Those words had just barely left Padmé’s lips when the ship lurched. Padmé toppled forward, her hands scraping against the ground. She tried to get up, but there was another lurch, and then she heard Satine and Rex’s voices through the com, but the ship was listing, listing…

Padmé slid down the hall, and then she crashed against the wall. She was only aware of the rumbling under her hands, her feet when a great white light flooded the ship.

\--

Rex had seen lots of crazy things. That was what one got when serving under Anakin’s command. And Rex had been sure he couldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, but when Rex opened his eyes to a planet in complete darkness, he realized that perhaps the galaxy was not yet finished with its tricks.

He found Satine and Padmé coming to beside him.

“Where…” Satine started to say, and then she sat up quickly, her eyes growing wide at their surroundings. “This is—”

A loud shriek kept Satine from finishing. Rex jerked his head up to find a streak of darkness—darker than even the sky, if that could even be possible—and then a blur of bright light, glowing in yellows and greens. Rex’s breath caught as the two streaks turned into clearer shapes. He saw two pairs of wings: the yellow and green taking on feathers, the deep black taking on bones and leather.

The two collided into each other, and that terrible shriek split the air again. A flash of red lightning tore through the dark sky, briefly lighting up the area. Rex saw claws, talons.

Out of all the things he had seen, this was definitley the strangest.

“What are those things?” Padmé breathed. “And how did we get here?”

“This was the place,” Rex said, his voice distant. He pushed himself up and turned around. The ship stood, untouched, despite the chaos of just some time ago. Rex didn’t even know how much time had passed. If there had been seconds or minutes or hours or even longer. But he knew, deep down, that this was it—this had to be the place Anakin and Ahsoka and Obi-Wan were before they came back. He turned back up to the sky, fixing on the two figures still colliding against each other. He saw a flash of teeth, a sharp beak. “They were here.”

“There’s no one else here,” Satine said, standing up. She tilted her head up, following Rex’s gaze up to those beings above. “Except for them.”

As though sensing they were being watched, the two beings suddenly paused their fighting, turned.

Another bolt of red lightning lit up the sky, and this time, Rex saw those creatures’ faces.

The yellow and green beast looked like a bird from the top up, with its beak, its feathered head, its beady green eyes. But below, Rex found the figure of some other great beast. He saw a green-tufted tail, a set of four paws. It opened its mouth in a sharp caw, making Rex’s ears ring.

If the yellow and green beast was a bird, then the black beast was a bat. Rex saw pointed dark ears, a chest spread thin with dark leather and a gaping mouth of tiny, albeit sharp teeth. Rex knew that only one bite would probably sever his arm from his body.

“I don’t think they like that we’re here,” Padmé said faintly.

“That makes the both of us,” Rex said.

“Only they might do something about it,” Satine said.

Sure enough, the two beings started flapping towards them, their eyes fixed angrily at them. Rex didn’t even have time to reach for his blasters, because in a flash of light, the beasts were gone—

“You should not have come,” a cool female voice said.

Rex blinked.

There were two people standing in front of them now. A woman glowing—actually _glowing_ with a pale yellow light—and a man who seemed to suck that light into his own darkness. Even before they spoke, Rex could see that they were two halves of the same coin, accustomed to each other’s movements in a chilling synchronicity that told Rex that those two must have been here alone on this planet for a long, long time.

“We did not call you here.” The woman was the one who spoke. Her voice was cold, echoing with whispers that Rex couldn’t quite catch. “So why are you at this place?”

Padmé lifted her chin. “Three Jedi came to this place a few weeks ago,” she replied. “They’ve returned to us changed, and we would like you to change them back.”

A laugh. That one came from the man. A high-pitched, slightly manic laugh. The woman turned to glare at him, but the man only said, “You assume that _we_ changed them? Such _bold_ assumptions for one who has only just arrived here.”

“Did you two not change them, then?” Satine demanded. “Speak plainly.” She was looking at the woman—who Rex, too, would have gone to answers for. He kept a wary eye on the man, who was still laughing.

But the woman’s face remained expressionless as she said, “We are not the ones who changed them. They are the ones who chose, in the end.” She glanced at the man beside her, her green eyes narrowing. “At least, they chose once _he_ showed them.”

“Showed them what?” Padmé asked.

The man smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he said.

“No, we wouldn’t,” Rex said sharply. He glared between the two figures standing in front of them. “What do you mean, they _chose_?”

“They chose,” the man said, still smiling. “When I offered them their chance.” He looked at Rex. “Tell me, soldier,” he said. “How is your war faring now? Why would you think that was possible?” He took a step towards Rex. He forced himself to stay still, his hands lingering towards his blasters as the man’s smile turned wickedly thin, wickedly cruel. “A war won with a few precise strikes, rather than with the lives of millions of your brothers. It was too easy.”

“They’ve become murderers,” Satine said. “You have turned them into something that they _never_ wanted to be, nor something they would ever want to be.”

“Didn’t they?” the man fixed his red gaze on Satine. “Ah, yes, Duchess,” he hissed. “You, with your peace-loving ideals. Such a difficult thing to imagine, isn’t it? That the man you _love_ would ever—”

“That’s enough,” Padmé said sharply, but the man didn’t break, not even once as he turned to the senator.

“And _you_ , Senator,” he said, “ _you_ have seen that anger in young Skywalker, your _hus_ —”

“ _Enough_ ,” the woman said, giving the man beside her a sharp look.

Rex didn’t dare look at the women beside him, didn’t dare let himself think about what the man had just said and implied as he said, “You’ve manipulated them into making those choices.”

The man only shrugged. “Manipulate, suggested…but no matter the result, they chose.”

“Not on their own free will.”

“And you would know of free will, would you, Captain?” He tilted his head at Rex, then at the ship. A hungry glint lay in his red eyes. “That girl spoke of you in her last moments, you know. She imagined a galaxy in which her dear clone friends could live in their own free world.”

Rex’s chest tightened. “Change them back,” he growled.

“We cannot,” the woman said. Rex turned to her. Something flickered across her face—maybe pity, maybe something else. “That must be a choice they make. Willingly.” She flicked her eyes past Rex, her expression turning grave as she added, “And it seems that they will have to make that choice soon.”

Rex whirled around. His heart plunged as he found Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka gathered at the top of the ramp of the ship. He hadn’t heard them move at all. Had thought they would still be knocked out somewhere in the hall, but now their golden eyes practically glowed in the darkness as they slowly made their way down the ramp.

“Ah,” the man murmured. “And so they have returned. A welcome sight.”

Rex heard a sharp intake of breath—and realized that was his own as he watched the three before him—his _friends_ , he knew now. Not just people in command, but his friends, and he knew something in him would break if this was really how things ended. He steadied his hands over his blasters briefly. He wondered if he could—if he would dare—and found that he couldn’t get himself to fully wrap his hands around his blasters. He couldn’t get himself to take those weapons in his hands, aim them once more at the people who he would have followed into the battlefield without question.

If this was how things ended…

And then there was a flash of light, and Rex heard a female voice whisper in his ear, “Do not lose hope, soldier, for the Force looks favorably on her children.” A pause, and then, lower, “Whatever you do, _do not move_.”

And then Rex heard a snap from somewhere deep within him. Resounding snaps near him, around him, and then he found Ahsoka’s amber eyes go wide with alarm before he was floating in light once more.

\--

At first, Satine thought she had died.

That was what she had thought when she felt that snap from within. Her ears had rung upon the sound, and then she had heard the snap in the captain and the senator on either side of her. She had opened her mouth to shout, to warn them, but then there was a bright light, and for a second, she couldn’t see anything.

But only for a moment.

And then Satine could see again, but not how she had seen before.

She was staring down at herself, looking down at her own crumpled body. Bile rose up her throat, and that was when she knew that she was still alive somehow, because she decided that even if she were dead, she wouldn’t taste the sour on her tongue.

She heard swearing, and she turned to see Rex looking down at his own body.

And then she heard Padmé’s sharp gasp, and she turned to her other side as the senator floated— _floated_ —around her own fallen body. “Oh no…” she whispered.

“Do not worry,” a female voice said.

Satine knew, even without seeing who the speaker was, that it was the woman who was still standing emotionless and expressionless down below. The woman hadn’t opened her lips at all, but that woman’s voice still filled the air with a booming clarity.

“Do not worry,” the voice said again. “My brother may manipulate, and he may torture, but he has too little faith in your friends.”

“What do you mean?” Satine found herself asking.

“I mean,” the woman’s voice continued, “my brother forgets that even the darkness craves the light.” Satine could hear the woman’s voice directly in her ears as she added, “Even in their last moments, do not forget that they fought. They struggled. And they will continue to struggle now. Look.”

Satine looked down.

She saw three blurs of darkness—moving too fast for even her not-quite-dead-eyes to track the three darklings before the seemingly dead bodies.

Satine found Anakin first. He was crouched in front of Padmé’s still form, his face twisted in rage, sorrow, _agony_ , Satine knew. Utter agony as he picked Padmé up by the shoulders.

And Ahsoka—Satine found Ahsoka gingerly sitting beside Rex’s fallen form. Her eyes wide and unseeing as she carefully brought Rex into a sitting position, her lips parted, her hands trembling.

And then Obi-Wan. Satine found Obi-Wan, her dear Obi-Wan, kneeling beside her, his face hidden by shadows. But she saw his hands, those hands that she knew as well as her own as they spanned down her limp body, dragged her into his lap. She saw his hand pick up her own limp one.

“You have to bring them back.” It was Anakin who spoke, his voice low and cold. He lifted those yellow eyes of his, glaring straight up at the woman. “You _can_ bring them back. I know you can.”

“I cannot,” the woman replied, her voice steady. “But _you_ can.” Her eyes surveyed over the three in front of her. “You all can.”

The man started to say something, but the woman pinned her brother down with a stare. A silent exchange—a silent battle for dominance, and then the man seemed to shrink back.

 _You had your fun_ , Satine heard. She startled and looked at Rex and Padmé to see if they had heard the voice too. The woman hadn’t spoken, not like the last time. Now the voice was directly in their _heads_.

And then a sigh, followed by the man’s voice, little more than a deep rumble in Satine’s skull: _yes, I suppose so. But what fun it was._

Satine looked back down.

She saw Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka standing up, their eyes still glowing, but with a different kind of intensity. She couldn’t pin down what it was—but just that they were _shining_ with a fire that Satine knew the others could see as well.

“After this is done,” the voice said quietly, “you will be sent back. Do not come looking for this place again.”

Satine opened her mouth. She looked for something to say—but found there were no words quite to describe how she felt. Not quite relieved, not quite grateful. Just bewildered.

She looked back down at her own body.

And hoped that when she next woke, this place—this ordeal—would be far, far behind them all.

\--

Our heroes awoke in their ship.

Muffled groans, deep sighs, and then a sharp “ _ow!_ ” as Anakin rolled off from his seat and onto the floor.

That woke everyone up.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured, picking his head up from Satine’s shoulder, “what now?”

“Nothing,” Anakin growled, rubbing his head ruefully. “What…” He looked around, found that they were all in the cockpit of what he knew had to be Padmé’s personal ship. “What are we doing here?”

More shuffles.

And then, Ahsoka from Rex’s side, “The mystery call!”

That _definitley_ woke everyone up.

Satine, Padmé, and Rex all stiffened as Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka glanced at each other. Their eyes were all familiar shades of blue and grey, if not only a bit tired. But the other three dared not breathe a word as the three Jedi wrestled with their own bewilderment.

But how to explain what would have happened when they got back? The death of the Chancellor, who might have been a great Sith Lord, and then the death of Mas Amedda, and then the removal of the chips in the entirety of the clone army?

It was Obi-Wan who spoke. He looked at the other three in the ship. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

Padmé exchanged looks with Satine and Rex.

In unison, they said, “It’s a long story.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for indulging me in this definitley off-brand story for me. I was a bit nervous writing this mostly because I have never been fluent in the genre of twisting beloved characters into darker places (besides angst). 
> 
> Of course, I do not condone murder to achieve any means, no matter how well-intentioned they are—in no way was this fic meant to glorify killing people out of sheer boredom, breaking into people’s homes, etc. (Although I would hope that the vast majority of you people already know this? If not, please do not kill people out of boredom or break into people’s homes!) 
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are greatly appreciated! Thank you for sticking around this fic, everyone! <3

**Author's Note:**

> I'm planning for this to be a five-part story. There won't be any real plot: just Sith Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka shenanigans. Maybe Padme and Rex and Satine are shaking their heads and a little...shocked (but also not really all that surprised) at how much chaos this trio can cause.
> 
> As always, comments/kudos/subscriptions are greatly appreciated!


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